Ducking Out
by cmr2014
Summary: Not everyone enjoys fireworks.


DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

 **Ducking Out  
**

"Make way!" Meryl Stryfe declared sardonically, making large dramatic gestures with her arms. "Everybody, make way, Vash the Stampede coming through! Clear the way, don't stand too close! He's the Humanoid Typhoon, trouble follows wherever he goes, and if you wind up with property damage, don't expect your insurance to cover it!"

Vash the Stampede was leading the procession, clearly flustered by Meryl's over-the-top presentation. One hand rubbed his temple like he had a bad headache. He did, if anyone had bothered to ask, in the form of a short insurance girl in a white cape.

Meryl and her loud proclamations came second. While she was going out of her way to be a nuisance to Vash, she was doing so because she considered him to have been a nuisance first. How dare the famed outlaw turn out to actually be a "droopy-eyed, cocky, upside-down-haired, woman-chasing lunatic who's nuts for donuts and gorges them like a starved hog in heat!"

Bringing up the rear were Milly Thompson and Nicholas D. Wolfwood.

"Not to sound ignorant, but is she always this…loud?" asked Wolfwood, who had only been with Vash and the insurance girls for a short while.

"Only when she's annoyed," replied Milly. "Which, come to think of it, she is a lot around Mr. Vash. You see, Meryl's really very nice, you just have to know her for a long time to see it. Aren't you looking forward to the fireworks, Mr. Priest? I know I am!"

"Uh-huh."

Milly noticed something…off about Wolfwood's expression. He didn't seem very enthusiastic. Perhaps he just needed to be reminded how fun the coming fireworks would be.

"Fireworks were always fun to watch back home," she said to him. "I mean, we had lots of fun just in our family, but some fun is more fun than other fun and sometimes it's fun just to have fun that's different than the fun you usually have. Whenever there was a big occasion, we'd go to town and watch the fireworks, it was always a blast." She laughed at her unintended pun. "All the colors lighting up the night, and the echoes of them popping off, and the smell of the powder in the air…I remember once my big big sister decided to try making some of her own and – Mr. Priest?" Wolfwood had disappeared.

Milly's head whirled around as she looked for where Wolfwood had gone, worried that perhaps he had gotten lost. It had happened to Milly more than a few times; luckily, the Chief had given her a transponder for just such occasions. But poor Wolfwood didn't have one.

There he was, emerging from the crowd and ducking into their hotel. A moment's hesitation, head swiveling from the hotel to Vash and Meryl, who were continuing on through the crowd. She was Meryl's subordinate, and her job was to stay with Meryl; but Meryl often had things well in hand (except when she didn't), and it was unlike the priest to just depart in mid-conversation.

What if he was going somewhere to do one of those things that always felt half-good and half-bad? If he were, no doubt Mr. Vash would get involved and there would be gunfire, and then Meryl's blood pressure would spike. By following Wolfwood, she could be preventing her sempai from having a heart attack!

Mind made up, Milly beelined for the hotel. Not seeing the subject of her pursuit in the lobby, she went up the stairs and down the hallway, poorly chosen burnt orange carpet muting her footsteps, and stood in front of his door.

Hesitated. What if he was doing something in there and didn't want to be disturbed? It would be impolite to intrude.

And then, what if what he was doing involved people with guns? Wouldn't it be better to let him handle it? He was very capable, after all.

But then, what if he left the group because he secretly had a pudding stash and wanted to watch the fireworks alone, pudding all to himself?

That could not be allowed to stand! The pudding _must_ be shared!

Milly brought a leg back and launched it at the door, sending it flying open – or would have, if Wolfwood hadn't opened the door just in time to be the receptor of her kick, stumbling back several paces and falling down square on his butt.

"Mr. Priest!" she cried in alarm at this unforeseen turn of events. Rushed to his side, shaking him hard by the shoulder. "Are you ok?"

Wolfwood croaked something out.

"Do you have a frog in your throat?" Milly had heard people complain sometimes of such a thing, and worried over how you were supposed to get a frog out of someone's throat. Would he need surgery?

"Stoooo…" Wolfwood croaked again. Struggled to suck air in to regain his breath. "Stoooo…stop shaking me!" he managed to gasp.

"Oh! Ok." Milly let go of his shoulder. "Why did you get in the way of my kick?"

Wolfwood rolled his eyes, his wind coming back now. Pushed himself off the floor, refusing the hand she held out to him. Brushed himself off. "I was coming to see who was blocking the light under the crack of my door," he explained. "Pros wouldn't be so obvious, so I wasn't worried; but I thought I might catch a thief in the act. Instead, I found out what a soccer ball feels like. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Well, you see, I thought perhaps you had pudding…"

Wolfwood's face went blank. "Pudding? Why would I go to my room to eat pudding? That stuff is your thing."

Milly went from abashed to curious. "Then what _are_ you doing here, Mr. Priest?"

"Will you stop calling me that? Wolfwood will do."

"All right. Then what _are_ you doing here, Mr. Wolfwood?"

The priest sighed; it was no use ever getting these girls to call anybody without a prefix in front of it.

"I'm ducking out from the fireworks. I want to be alone," he told her.

Milly was now officially confused. "But why would anyone want to be alone to watch fireworks? Fireworks are at their most enjoyable when you watch them with others."

The priest went to his bed and sat down. "I didn't come here to watch fireworks; you may have noticed the curtains are drawn. I came here to get away from them." Sighed again, propping his forehead on his hand in frustration. "You wouldn't understand."

He felt the mattress sink as Milly sat down next to him.

"I don't understand," she said quietly. "But I'm willing to try."

Wolfwood looked in her eyes – sympathetic, willing to listen, no judgment. He ran a hand through his hair as he decided whether to talk.

"Here." He leaned over and pulled his portable confessional from under the bed, handing it to her. "You'll need this."

"Why?" Milly asked, looking at it with a puzzled expression.

"Because this is a confession," he informed her, "covered by the sanctuary of the church. You are not allowed to speak a word of this to anyone else, or God will smite you."

Personally, Milly did not have a problem with God being smitten with her – didn't the Bible say he was smitten with all His creation? "Smitten" was just another word for "loved", right? – but she nodded anyway.

"I don't like fireworks. Don't act so surprised," he snapped at her shocked expression. "For you, fireworks bring back all these memories of being a kid growing up with your family. They're good times.

"For me, fireworks bring back every gunfight I've ever had. I can't relax with fireworks going off; I'm always looking for where the shots are coming from. The sound, the smell, it brings back all of my past at once, a thousand gun battles simultaneously. I can actually feel the bullets whizzing all around me, dirt and rocks stinging –"

"Mr. Wolfwood."

"– heart beating like a machine gun all its own –"

"Mr. Priest." In her growing alarm, Milly forgot to call him by his name.

"– fear. So much fear. Mixed with the smoke, mixed with the sound, so much damned fear, fear of dying, fear of letting the kids down, fear of…me. Fireworks remind me who I am, and I'm terrified of myself…"

"Mr. Priest! Catch your breath!" Milly pulled him close, trying to alleviate his hyperventilation. "Come on now, breathe, just breathe. It's ok, you're with me." She rocked the priest like she would a baby, stroking his head. Slowly, Wolfwood came back down, his heartrate and breathing returning to normal.

But as the fireworks started, she kept him there, covering his ears so he didn't have to hear. Didn't have to be trapped in a battle he couldn't fight.

As they stayed like that through the fireworks, Wolfwood took comfort in the fact that Milly was someone he could trust. A confessor. A tie to humanity.

His friend. Maybe someday something more; but now, always his friend.


End file.
